Page 11 of Play Book

“We all need someone who’ll show us that kind of a good time,” she says. “Just make sure you keep a good grip on your heart. He sounds like the kind of guy you can fall for.”

I laugh. “I think I’m safe from falling for a hockey-playing playboy. I’m older and in a completely different place in life. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, though.”

“True enough!” She glances around. “The walls are getting bare, Saylor. You need to spend more time painting, less time hooking up with hot hockey players.”

“Says the woman who used me to get information about her nephew by setting us up on a date,” I say drolly.

“Well, I’m rich, old, and crafty. I can get away with shit like that.” She looks around again. “You should book another artist’s show to bring in some money until you have more of your own stuff to sell.”

“I’m working on it,” I reply. “Just haven’t found the right person I want to work with yet. I only want to show artists I know and trust. The gallery is in the black, so I’m not going to rush into booking someone I’m not comfortable with.”

“That makes sense. I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“I’ve also got half a dozen pieces in the works, paintings I started and never finished, so I’ll have them ready in another month or so. At least, that’s the plan.”

My phone rings, and it’s the garage my car had been towed to. “I have to take this,” I tell her as I lift the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Ms. Bonetti? This is Dwayne from Tires Central.”

“Good morning. Are you able to replace the tire today?”

“Yeah, but it’s not just one tire.”

“It’s not?” I asked in confusion. “Was there more than one? I just got a new set a year ago. They shouldn’t have worn out already.”

“No. But you had a slice in the one that was flat that was definitely done on purpose. No way that happened by accident. And two other tires had nails in them, causing slow leaks. Can’t say it was done intentionally, but it sure seems odd to me.”

“So, three new tires?”

“Looks that way.”

He gives me a breakdown of costs, and though I’m not worried about the money, it’s frustrating to hear that it was an act of vandalism. My gallery is in an affluent part of town, in an area known as the Miracle Mile. There are tons of galleries and restaurants and other high-end shops, so we don’t get much crime.

“I can bring it to you by the end of the day,” Dwayne is saying.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I hang up just as a customer comes in, so I don’t have time to think about the situation with my tires.

Or my upcoming date.

FOUR

Canyon

I pull up to Saylor’s gallery at seven twenty-five on Friday night and park on the street. I’d almost called to cancel our date a handful of times because even though I like her, my gut tells me she’s different than most women I hook up with. She knows who I am and that I’m not looking for anything, so it isn’t like I’ve led her on, but there’s something so sweet and genuine about her, I don’t want to do anything that could potentially make her feel used.

Maybe I’m overthinking it.

I was half-kidding when I asked if she wanted to go to dinner, but then she said yes and now I’m walking into the gallery dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt instead of the jeans and concert T-shirt I usually wear.

I spot Saylor immediately, talking to a well-dressed middle-aged woman who’s chattering non-stop about what she apparently just bought.

“—and you know what? I think I want the silver one for my daughter. I’m going to give it to her as a divorce gift! Her soon-to-be ex-husband is such a jerk.”

Saylor smiles politely. “Of course. Do you want me to have it delivered or will you pick it up yourself?” Saylor types something on her laptop as the woman continues to talk.

I keep my distance, staring at the painting closest to the entrance.

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